


crumbling sandcastles.

by princevector



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Self-Reflection, lionheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8463745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princevector/pseuds/princevector
Summary: In this lifetime he is your King, a master of creation, not performing silly magic tricks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the title has nothing to do with sandcastles, i'm so sorry
> 
> i wrote this shortly after lionheart came out and i just. never posted it. izuleo is good though thank you for my life

A man thinks he can take on the world.

You think that's absolutely foolish. But you also know he's foolish. The way his green eyes glimmer with delusional hope annoys you to the very core. How, if anyone, can deal with this sort of individual?

Clearly you're the designated babysitter. Rather, Leadersitter, once he's locked himself in his room again. And once again, you find yourself leaving the confines of his oddly quiet home. His sister, wearing a mask of anxiety, can only look onwards as you quickly depart his home for what feels like the umpteenth time that month.

How meddlesome. That's what you've convinced yourself. This wall you've built to shield yourself from the dangers of this world is slowly crumbling apart. Or has it already? When did you become so defenseless in the eyes of your Leader? Your King?

The thud of headphones drags you out of a daze. Covered in sand, your delicate touch picks up the crumpled items and you promptly shove it back into your pocket, but not without pulling out your worn iPod. It's got a few years to it, but still works surprisingly well.

It's late, the sunset dipping past the horizon, but you have nowhere to be. Lonely, perhaps, not that this is a new occurrence. Tossing that thought aside (or as best as you could), your thumb glides along the dirty screen, scrolling through lists of songs that you hardly listen to anymore.

Until you find that one.

It's been weeks since you've listen to it but it stills sends chills down your spine. Good ones, but you'd never openly admit that. Leo's boisterous laugh fills the air, muffled slightly by a calming breeze that flows past. It's a melodic sound, although simultaneously annoying. Only an experience that your King can provide.

He can paint a canvas with his works. To say that you love his works wouldn't be inaccurate, but also quite off the mark. It was an odd sort of respect, a love-hate relationship if one were to label it.

If only you could hate him. It would make life so much simpler. Except you can't. He's annoying, someone you should absolutely despise. Yet he looked you in the eyes, even recorded his own words, all to tell you that your voice is beautiful.

It's magical what a compliment could do. Perhaps your King is a magician, but you laugh that thought off. In this lifetime he is your King, a master of creation and a ruler of his Knights, not performing silly magic tricks.

In this lifetime he is the one who pulled you out from the darkest depths. He is the one who probably knows who better than you know yourself at times, and that ultimately scares you. But you'll smile to yourself, because that truly does amuse you. Another day, another reason to live.

So bow to the King, you'll remind yourself, for you'll thank him one day for saving your life. And then, when you're worthy enough, maybe one day you could do the same for him. One day, maybe. 

As you begin your evening walk on the beach, you close your eyes and plug your headphones in, ultimately tuning out the rest of the world.

[ However, today is not that day. ]


End file.
